Accolades For The Accursed
by CalamatiesofaSycophant
Summary: Draco Malfoy has gotten himself stuck under a curse, which through a twisted leap of fate, only Harry Potter can cure. Slash. Post HBPHogwartsWar.
1. The Transgressions of a Tyrant

**Disclaimer:** I own naught. Pity, that.

**Warning: **Eventually Slash. It's simple. You don't like it, you don't read it.

**A/N _and _Credit Where Credits Due: **This is my first attempt at writing anything novel length. It is also my first attempt at writing anything Slash. So, any constructive criticism offered would be greatly, greatly appreciated. Again, I emphasize the greatly. Updates will vary until I can get down a solid schedule.

Oh, and in case anyone wants to know, this story was inspired by Diet 7-Up, sleep deprivation, a previously discarded foray of fiction, back to school blues, and the songs _Half Life _by _Duncan Sheik; Bowl of Oranges_ by _Bright Eyes; Trouble Sleeping _by _The Perishers; Smile That Explodes _by _Joseph Arthur; Something Pretty _by _Patrick Park; Golden Touch _by _Razorlight; Still Fighting It_ by _Ben Folds; Goodnight and Go _by _Imogen Heap; Something of Value _by _Yellow Card; Stigmatised_ by _The Calling; Ask Me How I Am_ by _Snow Patrol; Your Eyes Open _by _Keane_; _To Shelia_ by _Smashing Pumpkins; Strange and Beautiful_ by _Aqualung_; _So Sweet _by _Johnathan Rice; A Lack of Color _by _Death Cab For Cutie; The Beautiful Letdown_ by _Switchfoot; Amsterdam _by _Coldplay; _and finally _Several Ways To Die Trying_ by _Dashboard Confessional. _- - - Massive credit goes to those aforementioned songs, which were blasted on replay during the writing and plotting of this first chapter. Just to get me to make it past the preliminary hurtles and onto the real meat of my tale…

**Summary: **Business tycoon Draco Malfoy has been put under a curse. A curse that will only be lifted if he can learn to care about the first person he sees after leaving his office. All of this is hard enough – but, the fact that Harry Potter decided to take a walk near Draco's place of employment just complicates matters.

- - - - - -

**Accolades for the Accursed**

**Chapter 1: The Transgressions of a Tyrant**

_A Novel Length Fiction by:_

_CalamatiesofaSycophant_

_- - - - - -_

**I found one day in school a boy of medium size ill-treating a smaller boy. I expostulated, but he replied: 'The bigs hit me, so I hit the babies; that's fair.' In these words he epitomized the history of the human race.**

_Bertrand Russell, Education and the Social Order_

_- - - - - -_

"I don't care what the goblins have to say!" Draco fumed at the man sitting on the visitor's side of a large mahogany desk. "This is my deal and I will not have a handful of wrinkled old 'bankers' muddling about in the details."

"Mr. Malfoy, let me assure you that I completely understand your hesitation, but let me also remind you that the goblins have been working in this business far longer than we. It might serve prudent to at least hear their case."

"I know what I'm doing."

"I'm not implying you don't." The man raised a hand in the air as he spoke, clearly trying to placate the situation. "But, as your hired advisor I must warn you that from where I stand it is quite clear to visualize that your refusal will most likely send the company to blows with a very powerful group. I'd hate to see the matter hurt our numbers."

"It won't hurt the numbers." Draco said coolly.

"Mr. Malfoy I appreciate your opinion, but, please just look." The man bent down to a briefcase at his feet, resurfacing a few moments later with a handful of documents. "Just look at the rating drop in the market right now. We can't risk it."

"Yes, we can."

"I assure you that we cannot."

"Mr. Remmings, may I remind you who the CEO of this company is?" Draco said over steepled fingers. "It is me. Not you. Me."

"I am aware – "

"No, you don't seem to be." Draco sneered. "I have given you my answer and yet you remain resolute in your ridiculous notions that my company is in any sort of trouble, which I assure you it is not." A pause. "I built this company from the ground up in only two years. I made it the top in the market. I have personally inspected every employee, file and case. I know the workings of this building backwards and forwards. So, for you, a low earning business school ponce to tell me when my company's in trouble when I say it is not is not only ludicrous but overly presumptuous."

"I didn't mean – "

"Don't even try and defend yourself." Draco snapped. "Do you even know what you're talking about?" He didn't wait for an answer. "Obviously not. You just go off trying to contradict your earlier sentiments. Clearly, you are incompetent. And, I cannot have incompetent people working for my company."

"Excuse me?" Mr. Remmings asked in incredulity. "Are you firing me?"

"Yes. Top marks for that one."

"You're firing me for voicing a concern?"

"No. I'm firing you for being an incompetent business school ponce." Draco said while examining the beds of his nails. "So, collect your final paycheck from Cadence out front and be off." He stopped studying his nails long enough to give a wave of dismissal. "Goodbye."

Mr. Remmings stumbled as he pulled himself out of the hard-backed chair he had been sitting in. His hand shook as he reached down to retrieve his briefcase. "Mr. Malfoy?" He asked cautiously.

"What?" Draco snapped impatiently.

"Just – good luck." Mr. Remmings said, his voice shaking.

"What?" Draco repeated dryly.

"Good luck. I have a feeling you'll need it." A shaky smile stood alongside the admission.

"Oh. Yes, well, that's nice." Draco said, sniffling. "You can go now, you know?"

"Right." With a final nod Mr. Remmings passed through the large doorframe.

Draco gave a sigh of contentment once he was alone. Draco loved Mondays. Absolutely adored them.

With a small smile on his lips Draco leafed through the papers sitting on his desk from the days work. He took his time sorting each memo, file and transcript. He lovingly color-coded his notes from the board meeting that had taken place at the beginning of the day. Finally, as the sun was setting, Draco rearranged the small memorabilia he kept in his desk drawer. Everything was perfect.

Grinning in contentment Draco walked lightly over to the coat rack, extracted his favorite wool coat and scarf, and headed for the door.

"Cadence." Draco barked when he was in the small reception lounge that led to his office.

"Yeah, Malfoy." A slight girl popped her head out from a pile of documents.

"Clear any morning meetings I have scheduled for tomorrow." Draco ordered, readjusting his scarf.

"Alright, then." Cadence replied.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." An older woman announced as she entered the room from a side washroom.

"And, why would that be?" Draco sighed in irritation.

"Have you checked tomorrow's schedule?" The woman asked.

"Tebbany," Draco said sharply, "do I ever check my schedule?"

"Nope!" Cadence declared confidently from behind the stack of papers.

"See?" Draco said plaintively. "She's been here a shorter amount of time than you and even she knows I don't check them."

"Fine." Tebbany sighed, "Cadence, pull Draco's schedule for tomorrow, will you?"

"I told you not to call me by my first name," Draco hissed as a thin blue piece of paper was pressed into his grasp.

"You know how it goes. Old dog, no new tricks." Tebbany said with a cocky grin.

"I don't know why I haven't fired you yet." Draco grumbled as he switched his gaze down to the paper in his hand. "I see nothing that would prevent me to take the morning off." He announced once he had finished reading.

"Look right there," Tebbany ordered, leaning over Draco's shoulder to point. "Under the breakfast for the new orphanage opening up in Bristol."

Draco looked where he had been ordered.

"How do you even pronounce that?" Draco exclaimed sourly.

"It doesn't matter how you pronounce it. The only thing that matters is that you're there."

"Why?" Mumbled Draco.

"Because, that hard to pronounce word is the name of the head of the society for goblin welfare. He's coming to discuss the deal you are trying to pull through that will severely cut down most of the land the goblins have been given." Tebbany explained patiently.

Draco scrunched his face in distemper, "It doesn't matter what he has to say. I'm not going to listen – the plans have already been made."

"Regardless, you are taking away goblin homes. The least you can do is refuse their representative in person. It's polite." Tebbany lectured, her eyes boring into Draco.

"Fine!" Draco finally burst out. "I'll meet the bloody goblin! Only for a little while, though. I have more important things to do than hand tissues to a sniveling beast."

"Draco, I've told you it's not wise to call magical creatures beasts while in a monitored building." Tebbany said as she made her way over to a nearby desk. "It might make you appear heartless."

"Oh, wouldn't want anyone thinking that." Cadence said cheekily from her work.

"You, quiet!" Draco huffed as he stormed over to the lifts. "I'm leaving now." He announced for the room.

"Yeah, yeah." Tebbany waved him off. "Go do what you do."

"I will." Draco said haughtily as the golden doors closed in front of him.

Twilight passed by slowly as Draco ate dinner at a local restaurant he was known to frequent while reading the paper.

"Anything else I can get you?" The waiter that had been flirting with Draco all night asked as he sauntered up to the table.

"Just the bill." Draco said politely.

Draco tapped his foot against the floor while he waited for the waiter to return.

"Here." The waiter was back, sliding a black leather case towards Draco.

"I'm paying by credit." Draco informed the man as he filled in the information required on a small slip of paper.

No answer.

"Sir?" Draco said, an edge to his voice. "Are you paying attention?"

"Yeah," The man murmured. " I was just distracted."

Draco stifled a snort as he returned his attention to the bill. "Done." He finally announced, passing the case back to the waiter.

"Fabulous," The waiter said smoothly. Draco watched out of the corner of his eye as the man made to turn, then stopped, then turned, then stopped again.

"Problem?" Draco asked sarcastically. He was pretty sure what the 'problem' was.

"No. Yes. Maybe." The man stuttered.

"Well, which is it?"

"It's not exactly a problem." The waiter said, switching his weight to one leg. "Listen – my shift ends in five minutes. I know a brilliant club called Vertigo that's down the street, and I was wondering if you'd like to go with me?"

"Is it a club that accommodates to homosexuals?" Draco asked, keeping his voice imperious.

"Well, yeah." The waiter said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Are you implying that I'm a homosexual?" Draco asked, disdain seeping in his tone.

"No offense mate, but you do have that look about you." Draco made a dangerous noise in the back of his throat, and the waiter hurried to speak again. "No offense, really. I swear. It was just a little misunderstanding on my part."

"Obviously." Draco shot.

"Geez," The waiter put a hand in the air in mock-surrender, "Don't get your knickers in a twist."

"Excuse me? My knickers?" Draco asked incredulously before narrowing his eyes. "Do you have any idea who I am?"

"N –no."

"I didn't think so." Draco sneered triumphantly. "So, this is what you're going to do. You're going to leave this table right now and go straight home or I'll find your boss and tell him that you were making gross assumptions at a one Draco Malfoy. That being me."

"Draco Malfoy?" The man asked in shock.

"See? You don't want to mess with me."

The waiter backed away quickly and hastened into the employee lounge. Draco watched like a hawk for the man to emerge and leave, which he did, quite quickly.

Once the man was gone Draco removed himself from his seat and strode purposefully out of the restaurant and down the street.

And there it was. A large building with dim spotlights and rustling crowds out in the front. The title _Vertigo_ flashing in bright lights above the door.

Draco smirked as he shoved his way gracefully through the masses. Only to pause in front of a bulky bouncer.

"Get in line." The man directed Draco.

"I'm sure there's some way you could let me just…pass through." Draco said, careful to bat his eyelashes a few extra times.

"Listen, you ain't the first one who's tried to get past me and I'm telling – AH!" The man gasped as Draco's hand moved low and gave the man's groin a squeeze.

"Please?" Draco pouted. "I really want to get through." A little more pressure…

The bouncer's eyes had misted over and his smile was sloppy as he stepped to the side and allowed Draco through.

Draco let his face drop into a scowl as soon as he was clear of the bouncer's vision. That man had been disgusting with his greasy skin and gorilla muscles.

Draco's scowl only deepened as he entered the inside of the club. The dance floor was overly congested with people, the counters at the bar overflowing with plastic cups and the noise at an obscene level. Draco didn't overly enjoy clubbing.

But, he reasoned, it had been awhile.

So, with a jaunt in his step Draco entered the restroom. It was, surprisingly, empty, if one didn't count the ominous sound of shagging coming from the back stall.

Draco ran the water from the grimy tap, shuddering as he brought it up to slick back his hair. The _things _he did for beauty.

Continuing on he stripped off his woolen overcoat, black office jacket, and tie. A few buttons undone…and he was finished. Draco appraised himself in the mirror, quite pleased at what he saw gazing back.

Without a second glance Draco stuffed the clothing he had removed in the garbage bin. He would just have Cadence send out for replacements in the morning. It wasn't like he couldn't afford it.

A return to the mirror, a few practice motions of eyebrow quirking and pouting – he truly was a master at seduction. And it had been so bloody long since he'd had a good shag. Too much to do at the office, not that he couldn't get any, just too much to do. He could always get some. Always.

A quick rouging of the cheeks…and his mind slipped back to the waiter.

He was probably home cowering under the blankets by now. In retrospect, Draco considered that it would have been fairly easy to get him to take off his pants, but, Draco liked a challenge. That and the waiter had been grossly underfed and his skin had had an atrocious speckling of blemishes. He had been very much in his right to deceive the cretin.

Then his mind shot to the waiter's remark about him having the…look. Did he really look gay? Draco frowned and pulled on his eyelashes as he scrutinized his reflection. No, he did not look gay. Maybe his build was a tad slight, and maybe his skin was like porcelain, and maybe he took care of himself, but, really, that wasn't a sure signifier. Was it? No.

If it had been he would have never gotten as far in the business world as he had. Questionable lifestyles just didn't bode well with high rollers and corporate buffoons. Those people only wanted to do business with a person if they had 2.3 kids and lived in suburban Hogsmeade. No liabilities that way.

That was why Draco had kept Cadence in the office as long as possible. It had been quite embarrassing asking her what he had had to ask. But, in the end, she had agreed. If only for a large spike in salary, but she had still agreed. Now, as far as everyone was concerned, the pair screwed each other like bunnies in the copy room.

So, Draco at least held the illusion that he was well on his way towards 2.3 kids and suburban Hogsmeade. As long as he was on his way, they would make the deal with him.

Draco tore his thoughts away from the path they were heading. Those _matters_ always served to anger him. A final twirl in front of the mirror and Draco was on the dance floor.

He gulped. He did not feel comfortable here. There were too many people and too many lights. Way too many lights. But, he didn't have to stay long. He just had to find someone adequate and willing. Then he could leave.

Draco slowly released the tension flowing through his body and pushed himself forward into the crowd. Sweating bodies pushed him, hands groped him, voices cooed in his ear. Draco found it obscene. But, like his father had always said, nothing worth wanting came without struggle.

And Draco really wanted to shag someone.

He jerked as he felt a hand descend on his backside. He spun around as quickly as he could to glare at the offender. The perpetrator wasn't too awful looking. Draco's eyes sharpened as he raked over the body. Fit, but not too fit. Chocolate skin. Smoldering eyes. Clean-shaven. Acceptable.

"Come to my flat?" Draco leaned forward and whispered in the man's ear. He got a nod in response.

- - - - - -

Draco gave a groan as his eyes fluttered open.

He gave another groan as he realized there were two bodies in his bed. Snippets from the night before came rushing into his head…hands, sweat, touches, pushes, kisses, nips.

Actually, the bloke had been a _really_ good sport.

"Morning." A voice growled in his ear. A small bite followed.

"Yes, yes." Draco muttered.

"I should go." The man slipped out of bed giving Draco a rather pleasant view.

"Want another round before you traipse off?" Draco yawned, leaning back on his elbows. "It seems a pity to not take full advantage of sex with no strings, eh?"

"Alright. I think I could do that."

- - - - - - 

Draco didn't know what time it was when he stumbled out of the lift and into the reception room of his office. Apparently, by the glare he was getting, it was late.

"Tebbany." Draco nodded to the woman as he tried to sidle past her.

"What did I tell you about being late?" Tebbany hissed.

"Don't do it." Draco said, hoping his voice was placating.

"Exactly." She snapped. "Now – march your arse into that office of yours and plead for forgiveness like crazy because he's been waiting in there for you for over an hour."

"Who?" Draco asked dumbly.

"Who do you think?" Tebbany said, crashing the heel of her shoe onto Draco's toe.

"Bloody hell woman!" Draco shouted as he hopped about on one foot. "I can fire you, you know!"

"Go ahead then." Tebbany challenged. "And then see if you can find another secretary that can stand your ignorance for over a week before throwing in the towel."

"You are _so _lucky you can type fast." Draco growled as he hobbled into his office.

He tried not to pickle his face at what he saw. There was something wrinkly and decrepit looking sitting in one of his chairs.

"Mister Malfoy." A gruff voice greeted Draco's ears as he threw himself in his spinning chair.

"Yes?" Draco said, leaning forward and trying to sound diplomatic.

"As I'm sure you are aware, I represent the goblin community and it is my job to inform you that we, as a law abiding part of society, have severe doubts about the effects of the Carter Deal."

"Hmm?" Draco hummed. His brain was on the touches of the night before. Not the Carter Deal.

"The deal, sir."

"Look, Mr. – " Draco paused. How the hell did you pronounce that name? " – Mr. Goblin. I have a Ministry approved document in my possession granting me access to the land. It's a prime location."

"Surely there are other prime locations that could be used?"

"No. Afraid not."

"You are being irrational."

"Mr. Goblin, I assure you I am not." Draco drawled, "Besides, I'm sure there are other places for you to build your…" A pause. What the hell did they live in? "…caves."

Draco ignored the low growl he received for the comment. "So it does not bother you that you are displacing dozen of families?"

"Listen, Mr. Goblin, between you and me," Draco and the goblin both leaned forward. "No, it really doesn't."

"You obviously do not have a family." The goblin grunted.

"Of course I have a family." Draco said, his voice obstinate. "I didn't just magically appear out of nowhere. Someone had to pop me out."

"You misunderstand," The goblin said through clenched teeth. "Just because someone gives birth to you does not make them family, in your heart." A gnarled hand was brought up to lie against the goblin's chest as he spoke.

Draco burst into laughter. "Oh, you're funny." He wheezed in between breaths.

"I have not made a joke."

"Sure, sure."

"Sir, I find you cold and inconsiderate."

"Thank you."

Incredulously, "You take pleasure in those titles? You don't mind being known as unfeeling?"

"People will think what they will."

"I've never met a man like you before." The goblin mused as he leaned back into the chair.

"No, most people haven't." Draco said smoothly, his mind still not on the meeting.

"Mr. Malfoy, have you ever loved someone?" The goblin asked, a touch of a challenge to his voice.

"Actually, yes." Draco answered iniquitously. "I had a brilliant fuck last night."

"I am not talking about intimate actions, Mr. Malfoy. I am talking about an emotional bond."

"I had a cat when I was five. I was quite fond of that."

"You've never loved a person?" The goblin asked, his voice holding every trace of pity.

It was at that moment that Draco's mind seemed to snap onto his current surroundings. "Listen," Draco growled, "I don't know what you're trying to prove, but the consequences of my life have never invited love. And, to be quite honest, that's the way I like it. So, I want you to leave now, Mr. Goblin, and you can go back and tell every sniveling little beast that you came here to represent that they better start packing, because I am NOT changing my mind regarding the Carter Deal."

"It's a pity isn't it, Mr. Malfoy?"

"WHAT?" Draco yelled.

"The consequences of our life, as you so eloquently put it."

"Get out of my office – now." Draco ordered, his voice deathly quiet and his face an unnatural red.

"I'll be seeing you again." The goblin said as he raised himself from his chair and walked to the door.

"No, you won't."

"Yes, I will."

Draco swore loudly once the goblin had exited the room. Who did that wrinkly old git think he was?

"CADENCE!" Draco hit the intercom on his desk and roared into the monitor.

"What?" A few minutes later a flustered Cadence appeared at the door.

"I'm leaving." Draco said shortly, standing up and walking out of the office, Cadence on his heels. "Tell everyone who calls to go step in front of the Hogwarts Express, tell all the charities who want money to go get fucked and tell every single goddamn GOBLIN that they will never be allowed on this property again, and if I see them on this property I'll send them right where Potter sent Voldemort. Got it?"

"Malfoy – you can't – "

Draco never heard the rest of Cadence's words as he had already barreled into the lift and pushed the down button.

He needed a strong drink, and he needed it fast.

Now, where was the nearest pub… There had to be one somewhere. Oh, yes, there was one if he just turned right and… "BLOODY HELL!"

Draco was very much aware that he was lying face down in the pavement while wearing his best cloak and that there was another person lying next to him.

"Watch where you're going you sorry excuse – "

"I'm terribly sorry – "

"They should lock people like you in prison and – "

"Here, let me help – "

Draco pushed the person, who he had identified as male, off of him as he stumbled off the ground, tripping on his robes all the while.

"Are you alright – MALFOY?"

"Oh, so then you know who I am. Good, because then you know what I could do if you further annoyed me." Draco sniffled, as he wiped off his robes, but no – it couldn't be. "Oh shite – Potter." Draco never forgot a voice.

"My thoughts exactly." Potter muttered as he too began dusting off his robes, seemingly losing all urgency of a haste to help Draco.

"I'm going now."

"Whatever, Malfoy."

"Don't follow me."

"I'll try to resist."

"Don't contact me."

"I don't even know where you live."

"Oh. Right. Goodbye, then."

Draco kept on his search of a pub while simultaneously cursing the fates for ruining what had started as a brilliant day, complete with a shag. First there had been Tebbany, the bossy old crow. The damn goblin that thought Draco had needed a lesson on morals and family. Which, he did not. Then the bloody boy wonder himself.

Finally, he found one.

_The Mystic Thimble_ was filled with a vast array of lonely looking middle-aged women whose eyes simply sparkled the moment Draco walked in and found a table.

He couldn't resist a small guffaw as he found that the spot he had chose to drown his sorrows in was decorated primarily in laces and the color pink.

"Can I help you?" The barmaid came up quickly to Draco's table. He rolled his eyes as he regarded her obviously enhanced chest-size.

"Do you sell alcohol here?"

"Yes."

"Do you have a limit on amounts?"

"No."

"Fabulous," Draco rubbed his hands together. "Then I'll have a tankard of firewhiskey, some of your finest brandy, a few glasses of witches milk, some veela's blood – light on the tomato, and a shot of vodka to start."

The barmaid seemed to recoil a bit at Draco's drink order but recovered quickly, and with a nod, moved back into the kitchen.

Draco settled back into his seat, resigned to a wait. Feeling quite bored, he pulled the saltshaker towards himself and dumped some out onto the sticky wooden table. He was aware that he wasn't supposed to spill salt. Trelawney had lectured the point fervently, but as he poured a bit more he smirked in rebellion. No one could stop him from doing what he wanted here. Not Tebbany. Not that stupid goblin. Not Potter.

He winced a bit as he felt the beginnings of a headache forming behind his temples. It really wasn't terribly surprising that he was developing a headache; people had been putting him through the wringer with their damn demands.

Like, that guy he had fired the other day. Draco couldn't even remember his name but he had to admit that despite his reassurance in his company's safety the mans words had shaken him to the point where he had had a horrible sleep the night before.

Draco didn't even bother wiping the scowl from his face as the barmaid returned to the table with his drinks. She too didn't hide a scowl as she looked down at the pile of salt sitting in front of Draco.

"I'm the one who has to clean that stuff up, you know. I'd appreciate it if you refrained in the future." She said stiffly, now glaring at the saltshaker that was still held firmly in Draco's grasp.

"Fine. I'll stop." Draco said. "But just know, you won't be getting a tip for your cheek."

The barmaid huffed and stalked away leaving Draco alone to glower at the salt.

He couldn't do anything he wanted! When there wasn't Tebbany to breathe down his neck there was annoying wait staff to do her job. He wasn't a baby; he didn't need to be treated like one.

It was with that thought that he downed his first shot of vodka. It was with property listings and sums of galleons in mind that he drank half of the firewhiskey. It was with memories of Potter and his damned friends prancing around Hogwarts for six years that Draco finished off the brandy. It was with the knowledge that the goblin had made some correct assumptions that Draco consumed the veela's blood.

And, it was with a fierce feeling of defiance that Draco, ignoring his now pounding headache, ordered another round of everything. And a third. And a fourth.

"I'm cutting you off." The barmaid said sternly when Draco had asked for his fourth round. "I'm not bringing you anymore – you've already drunken more alcohol than we normally serve in an entire week. That's not healthy."

"What?" Draco asked numbly. God, his head hurt…

"No. More." The barmaid punctuated each word clearly as she began vanishing glasses. "I'd be happy to bring you an early dinner or some water – just no more alcohol."

"Uh?"

"You're in no state to travel anywhere. Do you have someone I could call to pick you up?"

"Person come?" Draco slurred.

"Yes. Someone to come fetch you." The barmaid said patiently.

"I can fire them if they don't." Draco said slowly, lying his head down softly on the table.

Draco gradually tuned out the tittering women around him and the barmaids soft words as he let his thoughts focus slowly on the intense pounding going on in his brain.

He may not have been completely coherent, but he knew with a glaring certainty that his head had never hurt so intensely as it was at that moment.

His eyes grew heavy, his breathing labored, and his thoughts irrational as he allowed himself to just slip away to a place that was much more pleasant than his current location. Sleep.

- - - - - -

Draco let out a low hiss as he cracked one eye open to a dimly lit room.

A shining face descended on him before he could even think about commenting on his surroundings.

"You are the stupidest man in the entire world, Draco Malfoy." Cadence said silkily, and much too loudly. Draco gave a pained wince at the pitch of her voice. "Just thought you should know that." She added more quietly, slipping a bag of ice against Draco's head.

"Where?" Draco managed out.

"Funny you should ask." Cadence chirped, producing a paper fan and waving it around Draco to cool him off. Draco couldn't find the strength to tell her it was doing as much good as a lettuce stuffed flobberworm. "You are currently lying in the boardroom, using the days stock reports as a pillow." She paused to let out a hollow laugh. "That barmaid that fire-called said you'd had around twenty stiff drinks, and _all_ before noon."

"Yes." Draco hissed.

"Don't worry, it'll be better soon, Tebbany's making you some draught that'll help sober you up a bit." Despite her amusement Cadence frowned in concern as she adjusted Draco's head atop the makeshift pillow.

As if on cue Tebbany banged her way into the room, making purposefully sure to slam the door as loudly as she could, or that's what Draco thought.

"Alright, Draco, sit up you mangy little sod." Tebbany ordered, making her way over to Draco's other side, holding onto a paper cup filled with a goopy gray substance.

Draco frowned in discontent as Cadence propped him up against her and Tebbany raised the cup to his lips, forcing him to drink. "Now you can tell us why you felt the need to get so smashed and we can tell you the not so good news." Tebbany muttered as the draught started to take effect.

Draco let out a sigh of relief as he regained the feeling of all his limbs, his head cleared and his breathing became normal. But, his headache didn't go away. His head stayed clear, but the same searing pain he had felt in the pub stayed with him.

"Draco, I have some fairly bad news." Tebbany said softly, sitting down at the head chair of a long oak meeting table. The dim lighting and sheer emptiness of such a large room created an imposing effect drawing Draco to pay clear attention despite the pain.

"Okay." Draco nodded.

"It seems that after your meeting this morning, the goblin you were discussing things with saw something in you he didn't like."

"And this is surprising how?" Draco said, not even attempting to hide the distemper in his voice.

"Well," Cadence piped up, "it appears he also figured he knew how to fix it."

"What do you mean?" Draco asked.

"He gave me a piece of paper when he left your office." Cadence continued. "It basically said that he had taken your, and I quote, 'obvious lack of caring,' as something to pity you by rather than to hate for. And, that if we wanted answers as to what exactly you should expect to turn to page 382 of some old goblin text. He was gone before I could say anything."

"And?" Draco asked, dumbstruck. "What am I to suspect then?"

"Tebbany went to go get the book in the resource room and while she was gone you stormed out before I could stop you." Cadence looked hesitant as she trailed off, turning to Tebbany for silent support.

"To make it short, Draco, you are under a very obscure curse binding you to a single person until you can learn to care for them."

"Ughh, please tell me that it isn't that smelly old goblin." Draco wrinkled his nose in distaste.

"No." Tebbany said quietly. "The person you are bound to is the first person you consciously acknowledge once leaving the location under which the curse was performed. So, in other words, the first person you talked to after leaving the office."

Draco felt all the blood drain from his face and his brain leap into an excruciating overdrive as he remember stumbling into a particular wizarding hero.

"Oh bloody hell." Draco remembered swearing as the most piercing, sharp and unbearable pain he had ever experienced coursed through every vein in his body like molten fire.

He let out a ragged yell, before falling forward, unconscious.

- - - - - -

The first thing Draco noted when he awoke for the third time that day was that his head was blissfully pain free.

He startled as he felt a hand smooth over his forehead.

"Well, Malfoy, seems you've gone and gotten yourself into quite the predicament."

Draco's eyes snapped open as soon as he heard the words.

Standing before him was Harry sodding Potter holding a chart against his hip, dressed in full healer's garb.

"_You're_ a healer." Draco asked incredulous.

"You've always been brilliant when it comes round to observational skills." Harry smirked smugly. "And, yes, I am a healer. As a matter of fact, I am the healer that ran tests on you with two frantic secretaries in the background only to discover you had enough alcohol coursing through your veins to put a dragon out of business." Harry's tone lost it's teasing and turned serious. "Hell, Malfoy, I don't know what you were thinking, but you could have done some serious damage."

"And what would you care if I lived or died, Potter?" Draco sneered.

"You know what," Potter sighed, "I'm not even going to bother. I have other patients to deal with."

"Just go then." Draco snapped.

"What does it look like I'm doing." Potter called over his shoulder as he strode purposefully from the room.

"Arrogant prat." Draco muttered under his breath.

He felt anger rise in him as he pictured Potter going home that night and telling the two other members of the holy trinity that he had taken care of an inebriated Draco Malfoy. Draco clenched his fists as he thought about Weasley and Potter smacking a high-five and laughing about how superior they though they were. Which, they were not, in any way shape or form.

But as thoughts of anger coursed through him so did waves of pain, concentrated primarily behind his temples, like it had been in the pub.

Draco clamped his eyes shut and tried not to whimper too loudly, but it became harder and harder as with every beat the pounding intensified.

Finally, a tattered cry tore it's way traitorously from his throat.

It wasn't long before Draco heard feet smacking against the tile floors of the hospital and a winded Potter appeared in his doorway.

"What's wrong?" Potter wheezed, stumbling further into the room.

Draco was almost positive that when he opened his mouth to speak he would do nothing but scream again, but was surprised to find with every step Potter took towards him his head slowly stopped pounding and his body relaxed. "It's better now." Draco said, voice raspy.

Potter sighed in annoyance, "Alright, then I have to go. I have a little girl who stuck a blood flavored lollipop up her left nostril to take care of."

Draco watched with mild interest as Harry ambled out of the room, but that mild interest turned swiftly to teeth clenching as the pain that had just abated jumped back with full force and another soft cry left his lips.

Again, resounding footsteps, and the pain was gone as if it had never been there to begin with.

"What is it now?" Potter panted, screeching to a halt once fully inside the room.

"I think," Draco said quietly, trying to keep his voice calm, " I think that I'm rather – attached to you."


	2. The Vices of the Virtuous

**--------**

**Accolades for the Accursed**

_Chapter 2: The Vices of the Virtuous_

A novel length fiction by;

_CalamatiesofaSycophant _

-------

_**There are new words now that excuse everybody. Give me the good old days of heroes and villains. The people you can bravo or hiss. There was a truth to them that all the slick credulity of today cannot touch.**_

_**-Bette Davis**_

-------

Draco watched in quiet calculation as he observed Potter's face contort first to something of shock, and then to something akin to amusement.

"Repeat that one." Potter chuckled.

"I _said_, I think I'm rather attached to you." Draco repeated dryly.

Potter eyed him skeptically, "Right." An uncomfortable shuffling of feet, "Would you, uh, care to explain, _how?"_

"No." Draco said, stubbornly. "Just be aware that if you leave this room my head bursts into excruciating pain."

"Really?" Potter asked. Did Draco detect a hint of hope in that annoying quack's voice?

"It's not like I take particular joy in the situation, personally." Draco reminded Potter with a scowl. He didn't want the bloody boy wonder to get any ideas.

"I'd assume not." Harry said quickly, bouncing on the balls of his feet while scrutinizing Draco's chart with an extreme amount of concentration.

"You look like you have the trots when you do that." Draco commented conversationally.

Potter looked up to give Draco a withering glance before returning his focus to the chart. "You never did grow up, did you?" He murmured quietly.

"Of course I did. How could I not?" Draco exclaimed defensively.

"I suppose you're right," Potter sighed, eventually shifting his gaze firmly on Draco. "And you say it only hurts when I'm not in the room?"

"Yes." Draco said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Well, to be fair, in his mind it was. The pounding was just a little hard to ignore.

"I really don't see how that can be possible." Potter said, his brows furrowed. "You took the sobering agent, and we pumped your stomach – "

"You WHAT?" Draco burst out.

"Trust me, it wasn't pleasant from where I was standing either." Potter said with a scrunched up face. "But the point is there is nothing that should be causing your reaction. There's not even any way to prove that you're telling the truth and not just looking for some sort of twisted compensation from the hospital for healer mistreatment."

"I have plenty of money on my own." Draco scoffed.

"I'm sure of it." Potter said, rolling his eyes.

"As you should be." Draco sniffed.

"Malfoy, can you swear to me that you're not making up this whole head hurting thing?"

"Why?" Draco said, narrowing his eyes in speculation.

"It's just that I'm still a trainee healer, and…"

"They gave me a _trainee_ healer?" Draco interrupted, his voice incredulous.

"Well, you know, the only thing wrong with you was the fact that you were hammered out of your skull. Nothing too special about that."

"Oh, whatever." Draco interposed. "Just keep on explaining that thing you were talking about." He waved his hands around to get Potter moving.

"I was going to say that even though I'm still only a trainee healer I'm about to enter experienced levels but I have to write a research document on a medical condition first. It's kind of like a final test. So, I guess I was just thinking that if you aren't being a total prick and making a scene over nothing like you used to do in school then maybe I might be interested in seeing if there's anything significant to do with your mystery malady." Potter explained, the entire while looking as sheepish as physically possible. Draco supposed it wasn't every day that you intoned to your schoolyard nemesis that you wanted to research their brain.

"Don't even bother with it." Draco said sharply. "I already know what's wrong."

"Oh, would you tell me?"

"No, you're going to be all smug about it." Draco protested.

"Fine." Potter said, an odd glint coming to his eye. "I think I'd better go down that really long hall and up the really steep stairs over to the very tip of the south wing of the building to see if they need any help restocking potions."

Draco felt his brain start to ache softly as Potter backtracked from the room with a knowing smile on his face. Stupid git.

"Don't." Draco spat out with clenched fists.

"Can you think of something better for me to be doing than going to the other end of the hospital, then?"

"I'm under a CURSE!" Draco yelled, hoping Potter hadn't noticed his voice quaver. Apparently he hadn't.

"You're under a curse." Potter repeated aridly. "Well. I can't think of anyone who would want to curse the great and mighty Draco Malfoy." He added sarcastically.

"That was unnecessary."

"You know what, I think it was." Potter said tersely as he sat rigidly on the end of Draco's bed.

"What crawled up your arse?" Draco asked petulantly. "You don't have the right to brood, I'm the one under the damn curse."

"Well, what the hell do you want me to do about it? Sit here and cry about the unfairness of it all, because it won't happen." Potter pulled a quill roughly from his coat pocket. "Tell me what you were put under and I'll go see if I can find an antidote of some sort."

"You'd have to ask my secretaries, I don't really know what it was called."

"Do you know what it was about?" Potter asked in exasperation.

"Possibly." Draco said nervously. He didn't particularly want to admit to Potter that their minds were connected, or whatever it was.

"Malfoy, despite what you may think, I don't have all day to spend exchanging snide comments with you, so just spit it out." Potter snapped.

"It's complicated." Draco started out slowly. "I guess you could say it began when I told a goblin that he and his friends could go build new caves somewhere other than where I was building my newest development, and then the ugly old thing asked me if I'd ever been in love. Well, obviously I haven't, although I had had a brilliant shag last night. You should have seen the person I brought home. All tan and perfect looking – "

"Spare me." Potter interjected solidly.

"You're missing out on a terrifically smutty story." Draco said, mildly perturbed that Potter didn't seem to give a flying fig. It had been a _brilliant _shag.

"Just get back to this stupid curse so I can get you to leave me alone."

"Alright then." Draco said coolly. Potter had a lot of nerve making to attempt to dismiss him so fast. Nobody did that to him. "You want the condensed version?" He didn't wait for a response. "You're going to get it." Draco was partly aware that his voice was rising with every word he spoke, but he didn't particularly give a damn. "I more or less told the goblin to go screw himself. The shriveled old thing thought I had no heart and stuck me under a curse that would only be lifted if I learned to care for the first person I encountered after leaving the building. You want to fancy a guess as to who that person ended up being?"

Potter didn't answer, but by his increasingly paling face Draco warranted he knew the gist of what he had been trying to imply.

"That's right, I'm bonded to you until I can learn to care about your scrawny arse." Draco said savagely. "So unless you have an antidote for that I suggest you don't act so uppity and start showing me some respect. Maybe then I'll at least be able to tolerate you."

It took a few moments, but after awhile Potter seemed to stiffen like a board, his gaze heated. "_I_ should show _you_ some respect?" He asked disbelievingly.

"Did I stammer?" Draco snapped curly. "Of course you should respect me, or does your head get overly inflated when you think about how you saved everyone from the big, nasty, evil dark lord."

"If you'll kindly recall," Potter growled through clenched teeth, "I saved you from the exact same dark lord. You owe me your damn life."

Draco's eyes darkened at the memory. "I thought I told you never to bring that up."

"Why should I honor your requests when you get wheeled into my care because you've gotten yourself so sloshed you can't even breathe properly, and the second you wake up start slinging insults like the miserable drunk you really are?"

"I am not a miserable drunk." Draco said calmly, his eyes betraying the fiery rage that was consuming his insides like they were made of paper.

"Oh no, you came in here because you drank too much water. So sorry, my mistake."

"Shut it, Potter." Draco growled low in his throat.

"No." Potter persisted stubbornly. "I'm not going to do what you tell me. As a matter of fact, I'm going to go find a damn antidote right now, even if I have to invent it myself, and hopefully the only other time I'll need to see you after this is in hell."

Draco found himself wheezing unconsciously as Potter stalked out of the room, but he wouldn't cry out. He wouldn't give Potter the satisfaction. Bloody bastard that he was.

------

When most people heard the name Harry Potter their thoughts would immediately leap to an image of a virtuous man standing on a battlefield stomping out evil as he made his merry way through life. An image that would cause Harry's stomach to turn over until the day he drew his final breath.

The fact of the matter was one of such complete simplicity that Harry still staggered with it. The real Harry Potter purely wasn't a good person. Or at least, that's what he thought of himself.

Would that righteous hero leave a man in pain just so he could go sulk over another crappy hand life had dealt him?

Harry tried to remind himself that this was Draco Malfoy and that any other sane person, having the past relationship that Harry had with the man, would have run away screaming at the mere sight of him in the same building. Then again, who had ever called Harry sane?

Harry mused to himself as he wandered the halls aimlessly if Malfoy hadn't just been making the whole ordeal up. It would be the greatest publicity ploy Harry could imagine anyone attempting, and he grudgingly admitted, that if anyone could pull it off, it would have to be Draco Malfoy.

No, it couldn't be. Harry frowned as he remembered Malfoy's cries of anguish. That couldn't be faked.

So, Malfoy wasn't pretending. Harry had figured that much out, but if he wasn't making up the reason for why he had the pains, then did that mean he would really need to learn to care about Harry to be cured? The thought alone made Harry cringe.

Even if Harry could find the strength to stand the crap that Malfoy flung out like it was the most expendable of things he doubted that he could manage it while remaining on any type of friendly terms with the blonde, nevertheless true caring.

And what would people think? Not that Harry cared about the general public, but it was his friends. It was Ron he cared about. Malfoy had taken the punch out of Ron at school and during the war more times than Harry wanted to spend the time to count. What would Ron say when Harry confessed that he was forming a friendship with the amazing bouncing ferret?

Harry couldn't help but imagine that Ron wouldn't have the kindest of reactions to that sort of thing.

Harry stopped short in his tracks as he realized that his ambling had led him to the waiting room. He sighed as he eyed the large numbers of people all nursing various injuries. Maybe it was his hero complex acting up, but Harry had a hard time leaving the people to suffer with no other healers around in sight.

"Hullo there." Harry tried to sound cheerful as he moved over to the first person he saw. It was a young girl clutching tightly to her father's hand, her eyes filled with tears.

"It's about bloody time someone got out here." The father grumbled.

"Sorry about the wait, sir. We're a bit short handed at the moment." Harry said, hoping his voice was still pleasant sounding and not as sour as he currently felt inside.

The father made a grumbling noise of assent before prodding his daughter closer to Harry.

"She fell out of a tree. I think something's broken." The father explained. Harry took one glance at how the girl was holding her arm at a crooked angle and was able to deduce that it had indeed been snapped.

"Hi there." Harry knelt down so he was eye level with the girl. "I'm Harry." The girl started sobbing harder. "Shh, it'll be alright." He tried to soothe her. "I'm just going to have you and your dad go to an exam room and the nurse will take care of you." Harry explained slowly. "And I bet if you're really good and you told her Healer Potter sent you, she might give you a lolly. How does that sound?" Harry added, trying to subside the grief on the child's face. It seemed to work at least a little.

Felling as though the girl was as comforted as she was likely to be in the situation Harry stood himself up to talk to her father once more.

"You'll have to fill out some papers and – " Harry broke off when he realized that the man was not paying attention to what he was saying but rather staring pointedly at Harry's forehead, his mouth hanging open. "Is there a problem, sir?" Harry asked, annoyance edging into his voice.

"You're Harry Potter." The man breathed. Harry stiffened as a few other people in the surrounding area's eyes widened.

"Yes." Harry answered curtly. "Now if you could just take your daughter to exam room five a nurse will be with you shortly."

Harry turned on his heel and walked as quickly as he could towards the other end of the waiting room where he hoped no one had heard that their healer could possibly be the hero of the wizarding world. He had actually been let off his shift early in the past because his presence had caused such an excited uproar amongst patients. He didn't want the embarrassment of something like that happening again.

"Excuse me, Mr. Potter?" Harry went still as he heard a quiet voice behind him. This was not good.

What he had been expecting hadn't been there to greet him. Instead Harry felt an odd sense of relief that he was staring into the faces of Malfoy's secretaries.

"Could we have a word with you?" The older one asked.

"Er, just a moment, I think." Harry said quickly. He didn't want to talk about this whole weird connection with Malfoy thing just yet. "I have patients."

"But Draco's your patient too, and right now he's in a lot of pain." The youngest of the pair said sternly, her eyes betraying a deep sense of anger at the thought.

"Listen, I know you think Malfoy and I have a bond or whatever it is because of this goblin, but you simply don't understand." Harry said in a rush, hoping other people weren't feeling the need to listen in. "Malfoy and I have never been friends. As a matter of fact, I've hated him since the first day I met him. We were in the center of two different sides of a very long and hard-fought war for nearly half it's duration. He's done things to me and others that I simply can't forgive, so, with all due respect, I think you should just find a healer who specializes in curses and leave me out of it."

"If it were you in there about to tear out your bottom lip because you were in so much agony he'd help you." The younger, Cadence, Harry thought her name was, said coolly.

Harry had to raise a skeptical eyebrow at that. "I don't hold a grudge against Malfoy, but I don't want to have anything to do with him, either. I think his thoughts are pretty much on the same wave length."

"Regardless, you're a healer, you can help, and you're refusing. What type of person does that make you?" The older witch, Tebbany, had stepped back by this point and let the argument rage between the younger pair.

"Just, get it through your head that I – I just can't deal with this right now." Harry fumed irrationally as quietly as he could. " I don't have the time or the ability and – I have other patients, too. They need my help as much as Malfoy does."

"At this point, I highly doubt that." Cadence snapped sharply.

Harry had to admit she had a point, but he wasn't willing to confess it aloud. Instead, he rotated his head around as quickly as he could manage, trying to find a point in the room where there was a large amount of commotion he could focus on. He finally found it.

"See that man over there?" Harry pointed harshly at a trainee that had started only that week who was clearly struggling with a patient. "I need to help him now."

"I can't believe you." Cadence said evenly. Harry winced at the disgust that poured out of her voice. It was obvious that he at least didn't live up to one person's expectations.

Harry didn't say anything, only walked purposefully towards the people he had used as a distraction.

"Um, Thomas, is it?" Harry asked awkwardly when he had reached the trainee healer.

"Yeah." The man sighed.

"You look like you're having a bit of trouble over here. I thought maybe you might need a hand." Harry suggested, hoping he wasn't stepping on any toes.

"Sure." Thomas said, dejectedly. "This guy won't cooperate with me and I've tried everything that I can think of."

"Alright then." Harry said, relieved, taking a step forward. "Mundungus?" Harry asked in slight shock once he realized that the man Thomas had been dealing with was an old Order member.

"It 'urts." Mundungus moaned.

"What's his problem?" Harry asked Thomas.

"He says he can't get his contacts out but he won't let me get near his eyes." Thomas lowered his voice slightly, "And between you and me I think he's been tipping a few back as well." He mimed taking a shot.

"Hey Mundungus, it's Harry. D'you remember me?" Harry asked, approaching slowly.

"I can't get 'em out." Mundungus kept on, clawing at his face.

"If you'd just move over and let us see it we could help!" Thomas exclaimed as he lunged at Mundungus' hands, prying them away from his face.

Harry took his opportunity when he saw it and hastily pulled a torch out of his coat pocket and shone it in Mundungus' eyes. What he saw would have sent him into peals of laugher if he hadn't already been in a poor mood.

"What did you find?" Thomas gasped, as he applied all his weight to Mundungus' arms.

"It seems that Mundungus here doesn't wear contacts." Harry paused for a moment. "He's trying to scratch out the membrane of his cornea."

"Oh." Thomas deadpanned, dropping Mundungus' arms limply. "Right, then."

Harry turned his head behind him slightly and was happy to note that Malfoy's secretaries weren't around. "I'd better get going to other patients, now."

"Yeah, thanks." Thomas said, still looking slightly shocked at the anti-climatic finish of his difficult patient's diagnosis.

Harry walked off, but instead of turning to another person who needed help, made a straight line out of the hospital doors and crept around to an area behind the dumpsters in the back of the hospital.

Swearing lightly, Harry moved a loose brick out of the wall and pulled out a pack of muggle cigarettes he had hidden. Lighting one, he inhaled a deep breath, and let his body slump down into a crouched position.

No one ever came back here, the smell was strong enough to see to that, but Harry didn't particularly care. It was a place where he could clear his head. That was all he needed.

He tried not to let his thoughts wander. Tried desperately.

It didn't work.

He kept lingering on a picture of a writhing Draco Malfoy, his sharp aristocratic features screwed up against bouts of pain. Harry shivered. He hadn't had thoughts like that since the end of the war.

"_Things are never black and white, Potter."_

Those had been the final words spoken between Harry and Malfoy after the fall of Voldemort up until today.

"_Things are never black and white, Potter."_

They had made a truce, of sorts. A quiet agreement between two people who would never see eye-to-eye but would never try and off the other either. It was as simple as that. It had stayed simple. That was the way Harry had liked it.

God, how he wished things _were_ black and white. Harry would love to say that he was the good one and Malfoy was the bad one. But, he couldn't. Not in good conscious, at least.

The thing that it kept getting boiled down to was that Harry couldn't summon a completely convincing argument in his head to hold against Malfoy. They had made their peace; they had nothing left to fight about.

"Bollocks" Harry swore when he felt the end of his cigarette burn down low enough to burn him. He flicked it carelessly to the side, rubbed his fingers together gently, and then lit another. He had a lot to be stressed over.

No, things weren't black and white. Right now Harry felt as much the villain as he had ever been. Like Cadence had said, he was a healer, who was refusing to heal. It was official; he had reached a new low.

He _could_ go back in and apologize, try and make his negligence all right. He could stay out here all night and neglect his duties. He could apparate home.

Each option had its merits, some more tempting than the rest.

Harry let out a heavy sigh. He didn't need this right now. He didn't need it ever, if he was being perfectly honest, but especially not now. Definitely not now.

"Mr. Potter?"

Harry closed his eyes tightly. Someone else was out here. Just bloody brilliant.

"Yeah." He ground out.

"I'd like to speak to you about Mr. Malfoy."

Harry cracked one eye open long enough to decipher that Tebbany had followed him outside. "Oh?" He asked, flicking the ash from his cigarette on the ground. He knew he was being childish and nasty, but at the moment, he didn't particularly care.

"Draco's in a lot of pain." Tebbany said, her face masking any emotions she may have felt over the issue. "Other healers have tried to soothe him, but their work has been ineffective.

"And what do you think I can do?" Harry snapped.

"He was able to explain to us that you have a rudimentary knowledge of the curse. Is that correct?"

"What if it is?" Harry asked tersely.

"You have to understand that I realize that the predicament you have been put in is unfortunate and that I know Draco isn't the easiest person in the world to tolerate." Harry gave a snort of laughter at this under-assessment. "But you also have to wake up and comprehend the fact that whether or not you want it, his fate is solely in your hands. This curse will drive him insane and into death if he is not properly cared for."

Harry felt his insides clench. He didn't want another death on his hands, but he didn't want to deal with bloody Malfoy either.

"I've been reading more on this curse Draco was put under." Tebbany continued, ignoring Harry's obvious distress as he lit another cigarette. "The longer it takes him to learn to care about you the more the effects will accumulate. The pain in his head is only the beginning."

"What am I supposed to do about it?" Harry whispered, looking pleadingly up at the wizened old witch.

"You need to stay close by and give him an opportunity to learn you." Tebbany paused. "Expert curse breakers were brought in, and that was the only way to a remedy they could suggest."

"What, so I'm just supposed to forget all the animosity between us and invite him to come share a cozy corner of my flat with me?" Harry asked sarcastically.

"Actually, that is precisely what I think you should do." Tebbany said, her tone holding no room for argument.

Harry merely gaped.

"We can finish this conversation inside where you can be near Draco. Chances are he'll probably pass out once he's relieved anyway. There's no real probability that he'll hear anything derogatory you need to get off your chest.

"No way am I letting him live in my flat!" Harry said loudly.

"Then you live with him in his." Tebbany said plainly, taking a few steps out of the area. "Come along, now."

"You can't tell me what to do. This is my problem, not yours."

"As a matter of fact it is very much my problem as Draco is my employer and I seem to be the only one in this place capable of caring about his well being. Now, I suggest you get moving before you have a needless death on your hands." Tebbany said. She looked livid.

Harry lowered his gaze and studied the unhurried red embers burning on the cigarette. He flicked the white stick a bit and watched as a few flecks of light fell off. With a final sigh, he pushed the cigarette into the ground, leaving a trail of gray ash behind him, and picked himself up.

------

_It hurt. It hurt. It hurt. It hurt. It hurt._

That was the only thing Draco had been able to focus on for what seemed to be forever.

It was like a giant had come and dashed him over the head with a meat cleaver while a nail was hammered in from the side. It was unbearable.

Draco was slightly detached from himself as he noted faint traces of salty tears wetting his cheeks as he bit his lower lip to prevent himself from screaming. But he could only bite down on the flesh for so long until he had to let a roar escape. His throat must have looked like shredded beef by now.

He wanted to die. He, Draco Malfoy, was ready to surrender. And Malfoys never surrendered to anything.

Draco was willing to make an exception.

Hands soothed over his face and arms. He heard someone who he thought sounded a bit like Cadence speaking loudly in the background. Water was brought across his brow multiple times over. Nothing relieved the pain, though.

Then he heard a startled gasp and hesitant yet hurried sounding steps moving towards him. A hand was on his forehead again. But this time, something seemed to have snapped, and the incessant pounding began to ebb away.

Draco didn't even try and prevent a strangled moan as he brought an arm blindly up to the source of the comfort. He made contact with what felt like a shoulder blade and tugged, bringing a warm body on top of his own.

The pain melted away after that. Whoever had helped him was holding him tightly in their arms, whispering soothing words in his ear. Draco felt assured that everything would be all right, even though he had no reason to put belief in such a foolish hope. How could this turn out all right?

That didn't matter now, though. The only thing that was of any real importance was that the pain had mercifully been ended. Draco finally allowed himself to relax and let go.

He found, as he drifted off, that he rather liked being held.

- - -

Draco could barely remember the sequence in which events had happened after he awoke from what he was told was a very long and a very deep slumber, but one thing stood out clearly.

Tebbany had come to tell him that he would be going home with Harry Potter.

Cadence had hugged him and told him that if Potter decided to try anything nasty that he could come and stay with her and she would find a way to make him feel better.

Draco just suspected she was fishing for a raise.

So, Draco had sat desolately in his room for the rest of the day while Potter finished his rounds, and had been taken to Potter's flat after he had finished.

Draco had been surprised at first by the place Potter called home.

It was nice.

Not the same nice as Draco's own living accommodations. Draco's flat held a minimalist quality that Potter had clearly ignored. No, this flat was not only huge, but also stuffed.

It was the penthouse situated on the top floor of a stately old brick building with rows of ivy creeping up the walls.

The rooms inside held polished hardwood floors and brassy fixtures and appliances. Leather couches and tartan poufs were placed about carelessly throughout every room. A room, which Draco presumed was the office, held a small oak desk in the center of stacks and stacks of books overflowing from bookshelves. Half-dead plants lined the hallways along with old frames holding smiling, waving photos. There were groups of herbs tied together with brittle string and hanging above the kitchen sink. A fireplace in every room completed the monstrosity.

It was all so very Gryffindor. Draco hated it.

"I don't exactly have a spare bedroom." Potter called out from the kitchen while Draco stood alone in the living room. "So I thought you could sleep on the couch out here, or, if you wanted, I suppose you could sleep in my room." He didn't sound too thrilled about offering up the latter option.

Draco chose the couch.

"Okay." Potter answered. "Er, just so you know, I've been planning a small dinner party for tonight long before any of this curse stuff came about so I suppose you could hide out somewhere or join us if you'd prefer."

Draco opted to not join in on the Gryffindor love fest.

"So, uh, the curse people told me that I should let you wear my clothes. Just so you're less likely to suffer a relapse. D'you want to go put some on?"

Draco followed Potter into his bedroom, which was just as crowded as the rest of his hovel, and allowed himself to be pushed into Potter's clothing. It was very second rate compared to his own.

After a few more hours of awkward conversation with Potter, Draco was allowed to wander off while Potter started cooking for whoever it was he was bringing over to feed.

Draco cautiously entered a room he hadn't been shown yet, and was mildly pleased with what he found.

There was a large grand piano in one corner of the room, books in another, a crackling fireplace, floor to ceiling windows, and a plush looking chaise lounge. Draco pushed the door open slowly, shutting it with a small click.

Lights burned dimly from a chandelier overhead as Draco took a few paces of the room. Hours seemed to pass by like lightning as Draco stood completely still in front of the expansive windows of the room, staring down into the darkness of the streets below.

Finally, Draco grew tired, and looking at his wristwatch, was able to tell that it was late enough into the night that he shouldn't have to encounter any of Potter's friends if he left the room he had spent the evening in, not that he had even heard them arrive.

Stumbling slightly into the hall Draco noted a soft light on at the end of the hall where Potter's room was located. Dismissing it, Draco walked into the kitchen, looking to scrounge up something to eat.

He hadn't been expecting what he saw.

On the floor were the remains of four plates – all smashed. Draco peered cautiously about the tiled room, hazarding a few steps farther in.

There, sitting on a cold stove, was a forgotten dinner.

The sight pained left Draco disconcerted. Potter's dinner party apparently hadn't gone to plan.

Ignoring the image of a crestfallen Potter, Draco turned to go back into the living room.

He had a feeling his first night at Potter's would be a long one.


End file.
